“I was devastated. I had always been proud of my sexuality, of being able to please a woman; I mean, I was Borhquan trained! And what that amounted to now, was that I had abused the woman I loved, simply by being myself, by doing what I had assumed to be normal behaviour on a wedding night! All my friends and family who could have said ‘I told you so’, kindly didn’t; they all must have felt truly sorry for me. I didn’t know what to do with myself so I took the next scheduled transport to Borhq, and landed on Alysh’s doorstep. She had been my tutor in the arts of love, and the wonderful woman that she is, she took me in—fortunately for me, her husband was off on one of his long tours of duty that had been the reason why she had become a tutor in the first place. She saved my life, I am sure of that. She kept me in her bed and allowed me to love her—and loved me back. By the time I left her house and her kids, I was functioning again and able to return to work.
“Nevertheless, I don’t think things were ever quite right with me; the joy that I used to take in just being alive seemed to be gone. I suspect that I would have been careful enough to not be captured on Gorsh’s home world had I not gone through the crisis. It wasn’t until you came into my life, Kati, until I realized that I was falling in love with you, and that you were a real, normal woman who would, when the time came, welcome my advances, that I realized that I could lead a contented life after all.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Kati. “That’s quite the marriage and divorce story! If you and I were in a competition, dearheart, you’d win, hands down! My story is perfectly ordinary compared to yours!”
Mikal took her hand into his and brought it to his lips.
“You know I’m sort of grateful to that ex of yours, Donny,” he said. “Because of him I got to sail into your life like a shining Borhq knight.”
“I suppose I should have similar feelings about this Lashia,” Kati responded. “But, the thing is, I don’t. I’m angry at her for hurting you so much.”
Mikal pulled her close.
“Don’t be. I hurt myself—and her—just as much as she hurt me. I should have understood the situation whereas she is genetically incapable of doing so. Besides, it’s over and the lessons have been learnt.”
Kati scrambled onto her knees on the bed for long enough to blow out the candle on the nightstand. Then she snuggled back into the warmth of Mikal’s arms.
*****
The four travellers continued their journey at a leisurely pace. The easy gait allowed them to enjoy the spectacular scenery that the mountains, and the valleys between them, provided. The trail followed the route of the pre-Disaster road, often clinging precariously to cliff sides and climbing up and down in ess-curves where there were substantial changes in altitude. The surface pavement, whatever it might have been, was long gone but the base of the road had withstood the passage of time remarkably well. There were places where the roar of some old flood had washed it away and the runnerbeasts had to climb carefully into and out of the resulting gully to get their riders back to where the trail was solid, but Kati, having seen the remains of the devastation on the Southern Continent, was surprised by how little damage there seemed to be among these mountains.
“These mountains are actually lower than the ones on the Southern Continent,” Yarm explained when she asked him about it. “They were lot less glaciated and therefore there was not nearly the amount of ice-melt to overwhelm the rivers running through them. All in all, the Northern Continent made it through The Disaster in better shape than the other two, although it certainly was not unscathed. That’s why The Northern Plains are ahead of the other areas when it comes to self-government and developing co-operative ventures and organizations. There were more survivors there than elsewhere, after The Disaster, and less damage to the land. We simply don’t have as far a distance to go to reach at least a modicum of civilized existence, as the other portions of this planet do.”
That evening they arrived in another picturesque little village with a small Inn run by a local couple. In this village the Alehouse and the Restaurant connected to it were at the other end of the street from the Inn, run by a different family. The four of them found themselves there after cleaning up after the journey in the Inn’s baths.
“So you’re not going to tell us what it is that you consider to be in danger on our world?” Yarm began when they had eaten well and were ensconced in the cozy Alehouse with mugs of local beer. “Does that mean that my kind, that is, the people of this world, are the danger you want to protect it from?”
Mikal gave him a serious stare.
“Your kind could be a danger to it,” he said, “certainly in theory. I’m more worried about the danger that the off-world crooks and their nest on the Southern Continent represents. With you and your kind we can discuss things; with the criminals that’s not likely an option.”
“I see. So we can expect action against the crooks soon after you get off this world?”
“More or less. I’m hoping that any disruption can be kept to a minimum. My recommendation is going to be that a network of defence satellites is laid down around the planet first of all. If none of the criminals are here when that is done, they won’t be able to use their rendezvous point afterwards, and we ought to be able to pick up any ships that try to do so, if we keep a contingent of Torronese ships nearby for a while.”
“Torronese ships?”
Mikal grinned ferally.
“Torrones are the Star Federation’s resident warriors,” he explained. “They only war-monger these days when they have the Federation permission to do so. Which they don’t get very often, but they’re a fierce-looking race and they have nasty-looking warships. That can be useful when you’re dealing with lawless folk. And everybody in the Space Lanes knows that the Torrones love shooting, and they have killer weapons, so they are a useful threat to throw into difficult situations.”
“Sounds like maybe a dangerous bunch to have on your side,” Yarm said carefully.
Mikal started to laugh.
“They were brought to heel a long time ago. They follow Federation rules—or else. In return, they get to provide the muscle when Federation needs muscle; that gives their warrior culture the reason to exist inside a peaceful organization during a peaceful time.”
“I suppose you know more about it than I do. I’m just curious what on our destroyed planet would be so worthwhile that your Star Federation could be persuaded to go to such expense to preserve it?”
“I’m sorry,” Mikal replied. “I really am not at liberty to say. But if you know of old legends, ones preserved from the pre-Disaster days, I suspect that you may well find your answer in such, without any help from me.”
“There is a cache of ancient books that weren’t destroyed, where I received my education.” Yarm said slowly. “I certainly didn’t look at all of them. There are likely those at the Institute who have.”
“We’ll have to go there when we get to your home on the Northern Plains, Yarm,” Jocan said, his eyes bright.
Clearly, his curiosity had been piqued.
“By the way,” he added then, “what about Guzi and Dakra? Are the Federation people going to want them before the Sickle Islanders set them loose?”
“Yes, indeed.” Mikal’s wicked grin was back. “Portobay will, without doubt, get a visit from the Peace Officers pretty soon after my report has been made. I expect that they’ll persuade the Sickle Islanders to turn those two and their weapons over to them. They will be questioned and put through nodal examinations, and afterwards, tried for their part in the slave trade. I hope you have no kinship objections to that, Jocan.”
“Why would I?” The red-head shrugged. “I mean nothing to him; he’s the same to me.”
He smiled at Yarm.
“Besides, I have a new family now.”
*****
The Kitfi Farseer had spoken of a city in the mountains when she had given Kati and Mikal the location of the beacon that they were now searching for. The city she had re
ferred to was the city which had once been there but of which now only a small fraction remained, the rest having been destroyed in The Disaster. There were no intact cities in the mountains, but The Temple of the Morning Star of the Spring Equinox had, according to all the information they had obtained, survived the destruction of the city in which it was located. A town and a religious community had grown up on the site of the destroyed city in the four hundred years that had passed, and that town corresponded, as far as Kati could tell, with the location that the Kitfi had pinpointed on her mental globe. Now they were nearing the town and the Temple, and Kati was growing more uneasy with every passing mile. And apparently so was Mikal, although Jocan and Yarm seemed to remain unaffected.
“It’s one of the ironies of life,” Kati said to Mikal one evening with a sigh, in that night’s Inn. “You reach for a goal, anxious to get to it, and then when it’s almost in sight you start regretting the fact that this part of your life is coming to an end. It’s not that I want any less to find Gorsh and his ship and the enslaved children, it’s just that I’m going to be sorry to leave behind this World and the friends we have made.”
Mikal reached to pull her close.
“That’s not quite all that has you uptight, is it?” he asked, rubbing the muscles of her nape.
“I guess not,” she agreed. “And I’m not blind to the tension in you either.”
“Yeah, well,” he sighed. “But let’s get ourselves to this town with the temple. Then we can figure out what’s what.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The town was called Faithville by its inhabitants and the people in the neighbouring villages. It was the largest settlement along the trail before Salt Rock Town, or so the travellers were told. Once it had, indeed, been a city nestled among the mountains but that had been before The Disaster, and where once buildings had stood side by side, now trees grew, and vines, and ground crops husbanded by the townspeople and the members of the Religious Community. A unique feature here in the mountains was the expanse of near-flat land that surrounded the town; no doubt this was why the original city had been built there, and now the land was a source of bounty for the folk who occupied it. The Proprietress of the Faithville Inn proudly explained to the travellers that the town did very well financially, exporting food to Salt Rock Town and the smaller communities along the trail.
“We have plenty of grain, and grass for runnerbeasts, too,” the amply-built woman said, “so we don’t have any trouble shipping our goods. We raise runnerbeasts for Salt Rock Town, too, since they barely have the grass to feed the ones that are in town at any one time, never mind carrying on a breeding program.”
“Don’t they get runnerbeasts from the Northern Plains,” Yarm asked.
“Sure they do,” replied the Proprietress, “but those animals are used to ship rock salt back to the North. They ship salt to all the communities along the trail, including this one, as well, and that takes a few runnerbeasts, too. The Northern Plains are their biggest customer and the northerners find it easy to raise runnerbeasts, but all the animals they send to Salt Rock Town go back laden with salt. We mountain people don’t get to keep them.
“If you’re travelling on from here, you will see. The trail between Salt Rock Town and the Northern Plains is a busy road, busy with runnerbeasts going north laden with salt, and coming back with lighter cargo, or, sometimes, empty.”
“That’s very interesting,” Mikal mused. “But what about the religious community and the Temple, Mistress...?”
“Sora,” the ample lady helped him out. “Just call me Sora.”
“All right, Sora. How do the Temple and the Religious Community fit into the life of your town?”
“You know, they don’t all that well,” said Sora. “The Temple is here because it has always been here, long before The Disaster, is what I’ve been told, and because it was extraordinarily well built, it withstood the floods that this area suffered. The religious people settled here because they believed that the Temple’s survival was a message from God and that the best way to worship their God was to create a community of faithful, around the Temple. It didn’t hurt that with the city in rubble, and most of the people dead or gone, there was plenty of empty space where to set up the community. The rest of the town is made up of the descendants of the remnants of the original city dwellers, and those people who survived elsewhere in the mountains but found that they had no way to continue living where they were, and had to move on.”
“Are you suggesting that there is friction between the Religious Community and the other townspeople?” asked Kati.
Sora shook her head.
“Not friction,” she answered. “It’s just that we don’t have much to do with each other. The religious folk take their faith seriously; they have their rituals and holy days, the things they are forbidden and the tasks that they must perform. The rest of us are less bound by rules and requirements; we like to enjoy our lives as much as we can, when we’re not busy making sure that we have food on the table, clothes on our backs, and shelter to cozy up in when the weather gets bad.”
“But the religious people busy themselves with rituals?” Mikal queried.
“Oh yes. They have the Celebrations of the Spring Equinox, the Summer Solstice, the Fall Equinox and the Winter Solstice. And scattered among the times in between they have their other Days of Celebration: for planting, reaping, flowering, fruiting; I can’t even begin to try to remember them all. And every Feast Day has its rites; sometimes they’re in the morning, sometimes at noon or evening, or even at midnight. The Winter Solstice festivities begin at midnight, if my memory serves.”
“Interesting,” commented Mikal. “Who, or what, is their Temple dedicated to?”
“The Morning Star of the Spring Equinox, I think,” Sora said, after musing for a moment. “Or something along those lines. It’s a long name, one that I don’t quite get. I mean, why not name your Temple after your God or something—I mean, what the heck is the Morning Star of the Spring Equinox?”
“Maybe they think of that Star as a God,” Kati suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I can’t see that,” Sora protested. “A star is a star. Unless they think that their Gods live on a planet orbiting that star.”
“That’s possible, I suppose,” Mikal said musingly. “Except most inhabited planets are homes to folk as mortal as you and me.”
“You said it!” laughed Sora. “That’s why we non-religious townspeople tend to look upon the Religious Community as, well, to put it politely, somewhat odd.”
*****
“Well,” began Mikal when the four of them met in his and Kati’s room to have a chat before heading for the baths and the laundry. “What the delightful Sora said, makes me pretty certain that we are in the right place. The Temple likely survived The Disaster because it had been reinforced by Star Federation building techniques when the beacon was installed; the Federation intended for the beacons to last a long time, as this one has. And the name, The Temple of the Morning Star of the Spring Equinox is just the sort of precise indicator that is supposed to serve as a clue to any Federation operative stranded on a world. I’m not sure what star would be the morning star at the vernal equinox on this planet at this place, but I’d wager heavily that it’s one which is circled by one of the Federation Worlds.”
“What about the Religious Community?” Kati asked. “how do they come into it?”
“I imagine that when the Federation chose the temple for their beacon, and persuaded a handful of people to become its caretakers—no doubt for some kind of consideration—they intended for it to remain an obscure place of worship. Maybe a family were the hereditary caretakers, or a small group of monks or nuns used it as a retreat, replenishing their numbers with recruits from the society outside. But the temple would have been listed in the Directories of Places of Worship which could have been found in the major cities of the World. Thus, before The Disaster, it would have been easy for a stra
nded Federation operative, if he knew what he was looking for, to find a mention of the Temple and its location.
“But the Disaster would have changed the equation. Someone who knew the Temple—perhaps one or more of its caretakers—must have taken shelter from the deluge in it, and found, after the floods had ravaged through the city, themselves alive and the Temple more or less intact. Meanwhile, everything around it had washed away; it must have seemed to these survivors that the Temple, and what it was dedicated to, had mysterious powers. It must have became known as a place of safety, and people needing a refuge for whatever reason, real or imagined, very likely began to congregate in its vicinity. It is easy to imagine how rituals to insure that safety, began to grow in importance, and, eventually, became as important as the building itself.”
“What you’re saying is very, very plausible,” said Yarm. “Strange things were commonplace after The Disaster, I understand. It was a difficult time for our ancestors; their world had fallen apart. Anything that represented security would have been grasped, and held onto, tightly.”
“What surprises me,” Mikal commented, “is how well most of the present-day inhabitants of this World have adjusted to the new order of things. You people truly are a resourceful breed. You are putting together new governments, new co-operative ventures, even selling stuff to Free Traders; and here it is only somewhat over four hundred years since most of the planet was destroyed and the great majority of the inhabitants died horribly.”
“People do what they must,” Yarm said simply.
“I want to deal with something else that we will have to face, now that we are here, almost within sight of the beacon,” Mikal said, getting up from where he had been sitting on the bed, to pace the floor. “Kati, if there are individuals from Gorsh’s ship in this village, do you think that you could recognize them?”
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